


Heard It All

by lovely_laurent



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Ableism, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, nonverbal!laurent, the regent rots in prison
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 06:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13897821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovely_laurent/pseuds/lovely_laurent
Summary: Laurent is nonverbal and communicates primarily through sign language. Damen accidentally makes an ass out of himself. Determined to make amends, he learns ASL.





	Heard It All

**Author's Note:**

> f i n a l l y. SO JUST AN FYI, the regent is rotting in prison and will never be present in this fic. even in flashback.

“By too many hands   
Touching where I stand   
And I can't fall   
Because you'll try and catch me   
Never let me go   
You don't think I know   
I've heard it all   
And so you'll never scratch my skin”

\- Emilie Autumn, “Heard It All”

I.

“Hey, Laurent?”

Laurent peeked over from the backroom of the bakery. Nicaise was leaning over the counter, cupcake in hand. He had gloves on, for which Laurent was grateful, but he could already hear the question on his lips.

“Can I eat this one? It’s from yesterday,” Nicaise asked, a hint of a smile on his face.

Laurent shook his head, turning back to the pies he was working on cutting and packaging.

Nicaise groaned. “Come on, I know you let Ancel eat one last week.”

He looked back up at him, one eyebrow raised, as if to ask if he was serious. He signed a series of signs, expressing how Ancel stayed an hour late after his shift, and how Nicaise doesn’t even work at the bakery.

He huffed. “The week before that, you let Aimeric have an entire cake. You don’t even like Aimeric!”

Laurent signed that it was his and Jord’s anniversary. After a moment, he adds that he doesn’t exactly dislike Aimeric, either.

Nicaise pouted and set the cupcake back in the bolt case. “Fine, but I’m not putting it in the compost bin, either.”

Laurent gave a small laugh and shrugged, expressing how he didn’t care either way.

In truth, Laurent had always been using sign language to communicate. Auguste had taught him, when it became apparent at age three that talking was not going to happen anytime soon. Laurent had taken his new skill and ran with it, picking up books even before he could read and begging his older brother to teach him the words within in ASL. They had learned the language together. In fact, some of Laurent’s fondest memories were of him and Auguste, sitting on the couch, signing to one another, the sound of laughter the only evidence of a conversation at all.

When Auguste had Nicaise, he had taught him, too. This way, the two could communicate without the threat of a language barrier. Despite how Nicaise never showed signs of a developmental delay like Laurent did, he excelled, and the three of them were signing together before Nicaise could even talk in complete sentences.

Neither Auguste nor Nicaise’s mom were with them anymore. And that was a sad thing for them both to think about. Laurent and Nicaise both carefully chose not to dwell on it.

Laurent made a sound to grab Nicaise’s attention. The boy turned, spotting him standing up straight with the knife lowered onto the table, and the pie ignored. He signed that Nicaise may have the cupcake.

Nicaise’s face lit up, and he quickly picked the cupcake back up. He carefully started taking away the wrapper, and took a big bite.

Laurent smiled to himself.

II.

Damen never had much of a sweet tooth. But, he did  _ love  _ to eat. So, he made it a point to know all the local restaurants and eateries. So, when De Vere Bakery opened six months ago, Damen and Nikandros had always talked about stepping in.

Of course, six months ago, Damen was dating Jokaste, who always had one reason or another not to go.

But Damen  _ wasn’t  _ dating Jokaste anymore. He was single, and...not really ready to mingle. But then, the breakup had been rather traumatic. Walking in on your brother fucking your girlfriend tended to be that way.

He and Nikandros finally set out to go after two hours of studying in the library on campus. Nikandros insisted he was craving a bagel, and Damen could never say no to a snack.

De Vere Bakery was painted a rich, vintage, navy blue on the outside. The inside was rustic farmhouse looking -- a term Damen only knew from when he was still dating Jokaste, and had been forced to watch HGTV -- with creamy whites and dark browns and edison bulbs hanging down over the bolt case of baked goods. There was a petite, young man with red hair behind the case, putting in cookies and cupcakes. He had a nametag on his apron that read ANCEL.

“Hi,” he said, standing upright and leaning over the case to talk to Damen and Nikandros. “Can I help you?”

Nikandros ordered a bagel, while Damen settled on a bran muffin.

Ancel looked back at the open room behind him, where three men busied themselves with various tasks. “Laurent, I’m selling the last bran muffin.”

A blond head popped up from the backroom. He made a series of gestures that Damen didn’t understand, causing him to look over at Nikandros.

Nikandros looked back at Damen, and just shrugged. “All I recognized was ‘shit’.” As if to demonstrate, he signed a word that looked rather appropriate for the word. “He signs a little fast for me.”

“But how’d he hear if he’s deaf?”

Ancel was turning back to them, handing over their small paper bags of treats and ringing them up at the register. “He’s not deaf,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “He just doesn’t talk.”

“Why not?”

“Oh. Well. He’s--” Before he could finish, the blond was shoving Ancel out of the way, making another series of gestures to Damen and Nikandros.

Damen looked between Nikandros and Ancel, looking for someone to tell him what he was trying to express.

Ancel’s eyes lit up in amusement. “He says, ‘That’s none of your fucking business.’”

“I didn’t know you could say ‘fuck’ in sign language,” said Damen, more curious than offended.

The blond facepalmed.

“Laurent says that one a lot, actually,” Ancel chuckled.

The blond -- Laurent -- made another series of gestures. This time, Damen recognized the middle finger. He really did sign fast, though.

This time, Nikandros speaks up. “This guy’s an ass. Let’s just pay for our shit and go.”

“No, what’d he say?” Damen insisted, despite how he reached into his wallet to get out the dollar for the muffin.

“That you’re a ‘fucking idiot’.”

Damen hadn’t meant to be offensive. Worse than that, he didn’t  _ know  _ he had been offensive. He felt bad, especially when he looked at Laurent, and saw the defensive way he held himself. It was as if he’d been forced to defend himself before. He felt even worse when he considered the fact that Laurent probably went through this every day.

“I’m--” Damen shakes his head. “Sorry.”

Nikandros slammed down the money for the bagel and the muffin and tugged Damen by the arm. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Damen let himself be led out of the bakery, but his gaze was fixated on Laurent.

III.

Laurent sat down at the dinner table with a quiet sigh. Nicaise was sitting across from him, already digging into his dinner. Laurent was slightly more...strict, than Nicaise. He used his favorite plate set, his favorite glass, even sat in his favorite chair for every meal. He only ate foods with certain textures, and even gave up meat as a whole when he was eighteen. 

That had been when his uncle had gone to jail. It had been a weight off of his shoulders. His uncle had tried forcing him to eat certain foods, guilting Laurent however he could when he didn’t. And then he was free to eat however, whatever he wanted. Or rather, free  _ from  _ eating however, whatever, people expected from him.

He had also done other things to Laurent. Things to Nicaise, too. He--

Laurent shoved the thought out of his uncle out of his mind. Instead, he made a noise to get Nicaise’s attention, and signed to him when he looked up, asking how his day at school was.

“Fine,” he answered plainly, “How was the bakery? Did Aimeric and Jord make kissy faces at each other all day again?”

Laurent chuckled quietly, and signed, asking, don’t they always?

Nicaise laughed. “True.”

Laurent told Nicaise everything that happened at work, and Nicaise told Laurent everything that happened at school. Supposedly, Nicaise got asked out by a girl in his class, and he told her, quite bluntly, to fuck off. That made Laurent laugh, despite how he knew he’d be getting a phone call from a teacher within the next couple days.

In exchange, Laurent told his nephew about the rude customer he’d met, and how he talked like he’d never considered the fact that ASL was an actual  _ language _ , and not just a series of gestures made up on the spot.

“Ugh. I wish I’d have been there. I would have taken care of it.” As if to demonstrate, Nicaise slammed his fork down on the table in a stabbing motion.

Laurent shook his head and sighed, taking a bite of his pasta. He put his fork down, and signed that he could take care of himself.

“I know,” Nicaise grumbled.

Laurent found it endearing, despite how irritating it was. He knew that Nicaise knew that, but he also knew that he couldn’t help but want to defend his family. Auguste had been the same way, sheltering Laurent from everything that would harm him, but also giving him room to expand and grow if he so chose.

Laurent missed him, more and more every day.

IV.

Laurent had been making cookies when Jord informed him that someone wanted to see him.

“I don’t know who they are,” he said, “He just said he wanted to talk to you. Should I--”

Laurent shook his head, and grabbed the notebook and pen from the counter. He held his head high as he let Jord escort him to his caller.

He was, admittedly, surprised when he saw the man from the other day. He tried his hardest to remain composed, tucking the notebook underneath his arm as he crossed them so he could sign, asking what he wanted.

“He, uh, wants to know what you want,” Jord interpreted, rubbing the back of his neck in tension.

Laurent was surprised once again to see the man sign, however sloppily, “I” “Sorry” “Other” and “Day”. His grammar was terrible. Despite this, Laurent smirked, and signed, intentionally quick, that it was unfortunate such a gorgeous face didn’t know ASL.

Jord, confused, looked over to the man. “He says it’s unfortunate you don’t know ASL.”

The man signed disastrously again, pointing to himself and spelling out “D-A-M-E-N”. His name was Damen. Laurent noted how he whispered everything he signed, under his breath, clearly not comfortable with the act of signing.

Laurent spelt his own name, then gestured towards Jord, and spelt out his name, too, just to see if Damen really knew his alphabet.

“Jord?” Damen tried out, looking up at Jord.

He smiled, and nodded. “That’s right. And this is Laurent. He isn’t deaf, by the way.”

“I, uh, I know.” Damen looked back at Laurent. “I just wanted to apologize for sounding so ignorant the other day.”

Laurent signed, asking if that was all.

Damen looked up at Jord, clearly reaching the extent of his knowledge on ASL.

“He asks, is that all?”

“Well-- Um-- I did some research, on why people might use ASL? It never occurred to me that people other than deaf people might use it.”

Laurent signed that it’s so sad someone so handsome would be so ignorant. He really only feels comfortable signing that because he knows Jord won’t interpret that part. It’s as if they had some unspoken agreement, that Laurent would say whatever he wanted, and Jord would interpret it in the most polite way possible.

“He says it’s unfortunate that you’re so ignorant,” Jord interpreted, looking as though he were caught in the middle of a battle, and couldn’t get out of the way.

Damen pointed at the notebook under Laurent’s arm. “You also communicate with writing?” he asks.

As if to prove a point, Laurent opened his notebook, and wrote down in immaculate cursive,

_ Yes. I’m capable of writing, believe it or not. _

He showed the note to Damen.

“That isn’t what I meant,” he said, looking as though he knew he’d just said something idiotic. “I just meant, I would like to get to sit down with you, and talk-- well, I guess not  _ talk--  _ communicate? With you? But obviously, my sign language is very…” he signs the sign for so-so.

Laurent wrote down another note.

_ I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m at work. _

He passed the note back to Damen.

“Just for a minute?” he pleaded, and Laurent can’t help but notice how he put on his best puppy dog eyes.

It worked, and eventually, he sighs and nods. He signed to Jord to finish the cookies for him, and that he’d be back in a few minutes. Jord nodded, and scurried off back to the back room to do as he was told.

Laurent and Damen sit at a table with the notebook between them. Laurent scribbled a note before Damen could speak.

_ What do you want to talk about? _

Damen looked embarrassed. “Well, I mean, would it be offensive to ask how long you’ve known sign language?”

No, but talking about that was talking about Auguste, and Laurent held onto his brother’s memory like something precious and in need of protecting, lest it be stolen from him by men like Damen. Or his uncle.

He scribbled.

_ Since I was about three, I think. _

“Did you ever talk?”

Laurent shook his head.

“Wow,” Damen said, looking taken back.

Laurent raised an eyebrow.

“I mean-- So-- Um, you work at a bakery. That’s nice.”

Giving his best uninterested expression, Laurent wrote down in the notebook,

_ I don’t work here. I own here. _

Damen’s eyes got big. “Oh! That’s great. Would that mean you’re Mr. de Vere?”

Laurent shrugged, not a fan of being called  _ Mr. de Vere _ . All the other men in his life were  _ Mr. de Vere _ . He was just Laurent.

“You look really young. How old are you?”

Laurent signed twenty.

“Twenty?” Damen asked, not trusting his own knowledge.

Laurent nodded.

“I’m twenty-five.”

Laurent propped his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his palm, the embodiment of “I don’t care”. He reached for his notebook, and scribbled down another note.

_ I really have to get back to work. Can we continue this some other time? When I’m not horribly busy? _

“Sure. When do you get off?”

Shit. Laurent hadn’t actually intended on him coming back.

He wrote another note,

_ I’m busy all day today. I have to pick my nephew up from school. _

Damen frowned. “Oh. I can come back tomorrow, or something.”

Laurent wanted to roll his eyes. But didn’t. Instead, he just nodded.

“Great! I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”


End file.
